Bøker av Yossi Faybish

Age is irrelevant, lust is ageless, lust worshippers are ageless. Lust is to love what love is to indifference, the beauty of it lies not in mindless rage but in the channeled rage that drives a violin chord into celestial vibration and a painter's brush away from the paint pot and into the only line suitable for his canvas. Lust is... art.

I needed a repository for all of my last writes, "last" being undefined and thus I preferred to have them all in one place, resulting finally in this heterogeneous, eclectic and directionless amassment. Because, see, this twitch in my hand forcing words to be laid down on paper, doesn't stop. Some kind of malady. Thus if I so happen to go unexpectedly, it will be at most one book left incomplete. The "last" book. This one.PS1. Many of these deal with death. Kind of comes... naturally.PS2. Never thought this will be so... lengthy. I probably live too long or write too much. Or both. Sorry!PS3. For convenience, I decided to split this last book in volumes, three for now. This is volume 1.

I needed a repository for all of my last writes, "last" being undefined and thus I preferred to have them all in one place, resulting finally in this heterogeneous, eclectic and directionless amassment. Because, see, this twitch in my hand forcing words to be laid down on paper, doesn't stop. Some kind of malady. Thus if I so happen to go unexpectedly, it will be at most one book left incomplete. The "last" book. This one.PS1. Many of these deal with death. Kind of comes... naturally.PS2. Never thought this will be so... lengthy. I probably live too long or write too much. Or both. Sorry!

I met life and death in four languages, I wrote life and death in four languages - English, Romanian, Hebrew, French. This book portrays a few scenes from my life, dealing with loss in a variety of forms, in a variety of languages - all depending on the mood at the moment. No, this is not an autobiography, just a few scenes. Yes - there were happy moments as well... this is not their book. I guess you may call it intimate - instead of crying, screaming, I chose to wrote. Take it any which way you like and don't try to understand. I did not write it for you. I wrote it for me.